Experience
by TheDeep
Summary: Dealing with loss is something that NYPD Det. Mac Taylor is almost accustomed to, but what happens when he has to face the loss of one of those closest to him? Where could this case possibly lead? And how do you say goodbye to someone when they were murdered? These are all questions he must find answers to, before this case becomes too out of hand for even him and the team.
1. Chapter 1: Rural Reflection

**So…this idea occurred to me rather randomly, and then was built upon with another crazy idea and a bit of help from "Watching Airplanes" by Gary Allan. It's almost told in reverse, but not entirely, so this is kind of like when they show you what happens and then do the whole "48 hours earlier" kind of thing in a way… Anyways…I think I've done enough confusing you, so I best shut up and get typing the actual story then…**

"_I'm just sittin' out here watching airplanes take off and fly…"_

He sighed softly, eyes to the dark New York sky. Rural New York was quite different from the city, and for that, he was grateful.

Away from the noise, the chaos, the constantly ringing cell phone calling him out to a crime scene.

But there was one number he would miss. The number of Angie Newark. Angelina, actually. He closed his eyes and heard the distant roar of engines as a plane took off to the stars, bound on a journey to somewhere…

He'd almost go anywhere at the moment. It was better than lying at home in bed, alone, wrestling with a deepened and worsened Insomnia that he thought he'd managed to keep locked in the closet for the most part and it was probably better than sitting here on the hood of his Avalanche, which was now a bit dusty from the off-roading journey to the middle of this field.

He didn't even know where exactly he was. He just couldn't get the image of her throwing the pillows at him that one night and him barely dodging the incoming attack out of his mind.

He actually smiled at that. She had been so amazing.

And then finding her in that alley…

And his eyes flew open again, once again open to the soothing scenery around him. The softly glowing stars were clearly visible and not blocked by the harshly bright lights of Manhattan out here, and the wind whispered through the nearby woods at the edge of the field. He could barely make out the road to the west as the night made visibility without headlights, or any type of lights, rather difficult.

He shook his head as the question came to him again. "Why her?" he muttered, looking down at the ground with a slight frown. He bit as his lip in a rough attempt to keep his emotions in check. Damn it, he missed her.

They'd been seeing each other for three months and he'd trusted her like…like he hadn't trusted someone since his last wife, Claire. Claire had always had a special power over his personality. Around Claire he hadn't been such a pain in the ass.

Ok…maybe that wasn't entirely true, but it had been in a different manner. He'd been able to crack a joke or two without a second thought around her.

And Angie had offered him this light, easy relationship just like Claire. She would've never taken Claire's place, and Angie had the wonderful gift of understanding that, but she had done one hell of a job at making him smile.

Another memory made him smile and look up at the landscape around him. This one was of the time when they'd went to the movies together to see some supposedly scary movie together and she'd ended up almost literally on top of him as he kept an arm around her, holding their popcorn with the other hand. He'd had this somewhat silly looking smirk on his face for almost the entire movie.

Guess being a CSI would make some things like that. Some of it had been so fake he found it comical. He thought he even remembered a quip he'd made after the movie, "You can't get any of that by me! Did you see what that killer did? Like, come on! Let's at least attempt some realism, for Pete's sake!"

That had made her laugh. Oh, how he'd miss that.

And he distinctly remembered the look of shock on Don's face when he named her at the crime scene.

"_That's…That's Angie,"_ he stumbled with the idea and words at first. There were no words to describe his absolute shock and horror at how the dark red dried blood had stained her somewhat pale skin and the bruising that had cloaked her wrists in a dark purple, almost black, shadow.

He shook his head and watched the headlights of a vehicle cruise down the road off to the west, jolted back to the present one more time.

He believed he'd just missed another call. Most likely from Jo. He didn't exactly care. Right now, the rural setting around him was his coping mechanism. And one of his more famous statements came to mind for him,

"People grieve in different ways."

And the truth of that was so evident to him. He just didn't care now. He couldn't have dealt with hearing the concerned voice of Jo that moment anyways. He'd come out here alone for the very reason he didn't answer the phone calls he'd been getting since four hours earlier:

He had been on the verge of a very real mental break down. The drive had helped him, and sitting on the hood of the truck in the middle of that field did wonders. More than you'd think, actually.

It was amazing what you could accomplish with time on your hands and a mind that needed that time. Time to think. He valued time that let him do that. It helped him solve a lot, and this situation was no exception.

One day he'd have to accept what had happened. This was just the first step towards that recovery. And if anyone knew it was a long road, it was him.

This was _not_ the first time he had to recover after the end of a relationship.

First Claire. Then Peyton. Now Angie. But Peyton almost didn't count. He'd long since forgiven her in one way or another. He liked to think he and Peyton were still friends, but he couldn't be certain with her living back in London and all.

That brought back a memory of racing through the airport to try and catch the flight back to New York. And he'd wished Peyton had been with him. But she had a reason, and he accepted her choice on family. What had he said? She couldn't leave London no more than he could leave New York.

Something along those lines.

Either way. Here he was. Alone again, thoughts on a runaway train with no brakes. It was just one of those things. Time would tell, right? That's how that saying goes, isn't it? That time heals all wounds?

He frowned just slightly. Time didn't really heal all wounds. It healed some, and bandaged others. And there was a few that it just simply helped to heal only a bit. Those wounds never fully healed, but time helped those dealing with those wounds to learn to live with them.

And that was something he was very, very accustomed to.


	2. Chapter 2: Shadow Figure

"_I'm finally holding what I've been hoping for…" ~ "Could It Be" by Charlie Worsham_

Two Days Earlier… Manhattan, New York

"You missed a phone call, sleepy head."

Mac groaned as a smile slowly started to form on his face and he opened his eyes to find her over him, black hair pulled back in to a ponytail. She giggled as he looked up at her.

"Who was it?" he asked as he stretched, stopping when he felt his hands graze the headboard of the bed.

She sat back with her legs folded under her and Mac knew he had to change the password on his phone. _Again._

"Jo," she reported promptly, spinning the thin smartphone around in her hand to show him his screen.

Sure enough, it said,

"_Missed Call_

_Jo Danville_

_7:28 AM"_

"Duty calls," he muttered, sitting up.

She giggled again and ran a hand through his slightly disheveled hair, making him smile softly.

"You should get a shower before you go," she advised as she stood off the bed.

He nodded and stretched again, hearing a satisfying _crack_ from his back as he stretched his arms above his heads and letting out a soft groan of pleasure at that.

She smirked as she meandered to the window, his smartphone still held in her hands. He couldn't help but note how good she looked in her black and white patterned long sleeve shirt and jeans.

He stood and joined her, noticing she looked a little confused.

"What is it, Angie?" he asked as he joined her, laying a hand on her shoulder and looking out the window. She seemed to be looking at a certain figure wearing a dark hoodie that was eyeing the Avalanche in the parking lot below. He frowned. That seemed rather suspicious to him.

"Mac…I think that's him," Angie said, taking a tiny step back so that she leaned against him and laid her head on his chest. Mac wrapped an arm around her shoulders protectively and eased his smartphone out of her hands.

"I know, baby, I know," he murmured, calling Jo back with one press of a button. He kept a close watch over the hooded figure by his Avalanche as he listened to the ringing of his phone.

"_Mac…I just called you. I was wondering where you were?"_ Jo answered his call after a few moments.

"_Sorry, I must've slept in, but I'll be in soon, alright?"_ he responded. As he spoke, the figure turned and strolled casually away from Mac's truck in the parking lot and Mac kept an eye on him until he could no longer see the figure.

"_Sure thing, Mac. See you soon,"_ he heard Jo tell him.

He nodded. _"Alright. Thanks Jo, and I'll see you soon."_ He then hung up and just kept a hold of his phone as he stood with Angie. He thought she was shaking and he looked down at her in concern.

He sighed softly and kissed the top of her head softly. "I'm gonna get a shower and head to the lab, but you call me if you need anything, alright?"

Angie nodded and looked up at him. "I'll keep you posted on him. He's not supposed to be anywhere near me," she said.

Mac nodded and looked out the window one more time. "Yeah, I know. I'll see what I can dig up about his recent activity if I've got a few clear moments while I'm at work," he said.

Angie nodded again. "Be safe, Detective Taylor," she said, back to her usual teasing of him and smirking.

Mac smirked a bit. "Yes, ma'am," he said, snapping off a quick salute, which made her burst in to another round of giggles before he and her split up to prepare for the day ahead, her going to the kitchen to prepare him a cup of coffee and him heading off to the shower.

About 35 minutes later, Mac and Angie shared one last kiss and Angie held his gaze longingly for one moment longer.

Mac offered her a soft smile and gently brushed a strand of her hair out of her eyes and caressed her cheek with his thumb. "I'll be home as soon as possible. Promise."

Angie smiled softly and her brown eyes sparkled. "I'll miss you, but remember we've got plans tonight," she reminded him, giving him one last kiss on the cheek and Mac smiled, catching one last breath of that sweet smelling lotion she used on her normally dry skin.

"Don't worry. I have a reminder set on my phone just for that purpose," he said.

Angie giggled softly. "Be home soon, my love," she said as she finally stepped back and let him start for work.

Mac paused in the doorway to send her a smile and one of his looks. "I will, darling."

He took the stairs instead of the elevator down to the parking lot that morning, thankful for Angie having coffee ready for him after he'd raced through a cool shower to wake him up.

He still hadn't forgotten about seeing that hooded figure looking at his truck. He had a very deep impression that it had been Angie's ex-boyfriend, Darian Huchardson.

Mac knew Huchardson's rap sheet like the back of his hand. Weapons charges, drugs, rape, assault, breaking and entering, grand theft auto… It was all on Huchardson's long history. The thought of the sick and twisted convict sent a chill through Mac that stuck with him even today.

He looked around almost suspiciously as he reached his Avalanche. He didn't see anything wrong with the truck as he unlocked the door with his keys and jumped in the driver's seat, laying his jacket on the passenger seat and making sure he had his .40 caliber safe in his holster.

He was soon on his way to the lab. Seeing Huchardson that morning troubled him. He was supposed to be keeping away from Angie since she had a restraining order against the creep.

And…. Angie had been living with Mac for a while now. Not at her old place. How the hell had he found her living with him?

He frowned and thought over this as he navigated the traffic before pulling the truck safely down in to the parking garage below the New York Crime Lab.

As he stepped out, keys and jacket in his hand along with his phone in the right side pocket of his pants, he shook his head to rid himself of thoughts of Huchardson until a later moment. It wouldn't help him if he was distracted on the job. He could worry about Huchardson later if he had the time to check up on his activities with his Parole Officer, a decent man by the name of Daniel Long.

Yes, Mac would definitely would have a look in to Huchardson. There was something fishy about him showing up near Mac's place, showing a strange interest in the Avalanche.


	3. Chapter 3: Unfriendly Chat

"_When you feel my heat, look into my eyes, it's where my demons hide, it's where my demons hide,_

_Don't get too close, it's dark inside, it's where my demons hide, it's where my demons hide…" ~ "Demons" by Imagine Dragons_

**. . . . . . . .**

"_Yeah, thanks Daniel,"_ Mac said with a sigh before he hung up and replaced his cell in his jacket.

Darian hadn't checked in this past week with his Parole Officer, Daniel. It made Mac nervous… Angie was at home all alone… He didn't like it.

And he swore Darian had been investigating his Avalanche earlier. He frowned. What would Huchardson want with him? He didn't know the man personally, at least… not too well. He'd seen Huchardson, of course… but ever really talked with him… nope.

To hell with the son of a bitch for all Mac cared. He just was worried about Angie's safety… She'd already lost her brother… she didn't need to add her own life to her list of losses.

"You alright, boss?"

Mac looked up at Danny's voice. "Yeah," he said, shaking his head and refocusing, "What do you have?" he asked, stepping around his desk to join Danny.

"DNA results confirm the blood in Ricardo's apartment is our vic's," Danny said, handing Mac the testing results.

Mac nodded as he looked over the results. "Don working on a warrant for arrest?"

"Already got it. He wanted to know if you'd like to ride along?"

Mac smiled a bit. "Since when have I ever been able to refuse?"

**ooOOoo**

"Yeah, I'll catch up with you guys later," Mac said, eyeing his Avalanche.

Danny and Don exchanged a glance. "You alright?"

Mac nodded and looked back at them. "Fine, I just have a few things to check up on before I hit the lab again," he said.

Danny and Don examined him for a moment longer, almost not buying his story before they nodded.

"See you later, Mac," Danny said as him and Don headed back for the car where they had Ricardo for the ride back to the precinct.

Mac waited until they left before he finally crossed the street to his Avalanche.

"Can I help you, officer?" Huchardson greeted him, looking over the rims of his sunglasses as he sat in the driver's seat with the window rolled down.

"You've got nerves, asshole, I'll give you that much," Mac growled.

"Get in, Detective Taylor," Huchardson told him.

Mac glared at him. "What the hell do you want with Angie, huh? I saw you at my truck earlier. I didn't know I was such an interesting subject for your studies."

Huchardson sighed and shook his head. "Are you going to get in and talk with me or do we need to do this at the precinct, Detective Taylor?"

Mac sighed. "Don't try anything or I'll freaking kill your ass personally," he muttered as he looked over his shoulder, walking around the truck and climbing in the passenger side.

Huchardson, seeming satisfied with that, put the window up and locked the doors on the truck.

True, Mac was a little nervous as to what he just signed his name on, but if Huchardson wanted to talk, Mac was willing to listen… as long as there were no strings attached.

"I think you know why I'm interested in you, Mac," Huchardson pointed out as he pulled the truck out on to the road and started driving.

"I know, you don't want me anywhere near Angie, but you did something I'm not freaking capable of, Darian, so I don't need your lecture," Mac growled, shooting a glare at the convict before looking out the window of the truck, wondering where the hell they were going.

"Hell you don't, Taylor," Huchardson growled, matching Mac's tone perfectly.

The detective glared at him with narrowed blue eyes but didn't say anything.

"I thought so," Huchardson grumbled. "I know you like her, but you best remember who I am, Taylor. I'd kill you for a damn Klondike bar."

Mac grinned. "I'd kill you for a Klondike bar, too, dumbass," he smirked.

Huchardson laughed. "I thought you'd say something like that."

Mac was still grinning, "Oh yeah? Plan on enlightening me?"

"C'mon, I'm not that bad of a teacher, am I?" Huchardson asked, pulling a knife from his pocket to show Mac.

"I'll kill both of you if that's what it comes to, Taylor. And she's such a pretty girl, I'd hate to see her hurt in this."

Mac grabbed his wrist with a strength he didn't quite realize he had and Huchardson looked a little surprised by it as well. "You keep your filthy hands off of her, got it?"

"Can I file harassment charges, Detective?" Huchardson challenged like the smartass Mac figured he was.

Mac made a point of letting go of his wrist. "Free country, isn't it? I'm sure you probably could," he growled, looking away from Huchardson as the convict smirked.

"Thanks for the ride, Detective Taylor," he said, still smirking as he parked the truck and got out, leaving Mac's keys in the ignition.

Mac followed him with his glare. He didn't quite have a choice now… he'd have to tell the team about this asshole.

As far as he was concerned, he had just received a threat. But it wasn't the threat to his own life that worried him. It was the fact that Huchardson was clearly willing to go after Angie.

As he got out of the truck to get back in the driver's seat, he pulled out his phone, calling Angie off his speed-dial list.

"_Yeah, it's me, Angie. I just had a talk with your ex, and I want you to come with me to the lab. We can't hide this from the team anymore… I'm scared for you."_

A few minutes later, he was driving for the diner where Angie worked to pick her up. He was too worried about her to leave her at home for the rest of shift. He knew what Huchardson was capable of… and he didn't want him anywhere near Angie, not in a million years.


	4. Chapter 4: Cover

"_Her daddy had a heart like a nine-pound hammer, Think he even did a little time in the slammer, What was I thinkin'? She snuck out one night and met me by the front gate, Her daddy came out, wavin' that twelve-gauge, We tore out the drive, he peppered my tailgate, What was I thinkin'?" – "What Was I Thinkin'?" by Deirks Bentley_

**. . . . . . . . . . . . .**

"Are you ok?" Angie asked as she raced to Mac's side as he stood by the Avalanche.

He quickly pulled her into a hug, relieved to see she was fine. "Yeah, yeah, I'm alright. Your ex has a magnificent attitude," he told her, managing a small smile as he attempted to lighten the mood.

Angie let a bit of a nervous laugh escape her lips and laid her head on his shoulder. "When you said you talked with Darian… I… I just worried he'd do something," she murmured, closing her eyes and staying close.

"Shh, I'm alright," Mac soothed, brushing a stray strand of her black hair back behind her ear. "I just needed to know you were safe."

Angie nodded. "So… what do we do now? I'm not ready to have your team know I'm with you," she said, looking at him.

Mac sighed and shook his head. "I'm thinking I'll tell them about Darian and make sure they know about what he's done, but I'll keep your name and your brother's out of it, alright?"

Angie nodded. "Ok. What should I do?"

"I'm going to take you back to our place after I talk with my team. I wanna take the rest of the day off and get some time in with you, that way I know Darian can't touch you the rest of today," Mac told her. "So, when I go up to talk with my team, I'm gonna leave you in the truck, alright? I don't want you to unlock it until I'm back."

Angie nodded. "Got it."

Mac sighed. He hated seeing her scared like this. He gave her a quick kiss and a reassuring smile, "I love you."

Angie smiled a bit. "What if I said I loved you more?" she asked.

Mac smiled softly. "Then I'd call myself the luckiest man in the world… for about the 100th time today," he told her.

Angie smiled a little more this time. "You seriously are too good to me sometimes, Mac Taylor."

Mac smiled as he got the door to the Avalanche for her. "But that's only because you're too good to me _all_ the time," he pointed out as she got in.

She shot a playful glare at him as he shut the door and then leaned over and got the door for him on the driver's side. "Who said I'm not allowed to?" she asked stubbornly as he got in.

Mac smirked. "No one ever did, and I definitely won't ever tell you that you can't."

Angie laughed a little, smiling a little shyly. "Good."

**ooOOoo**

"Hey, you're back late. Don and Danny made it an hour ago," Stella told Mac as she met him in the hallway of the lab.

"Something came up," Mac said, trying to think of the best lie he could use to get away with going home with Angie to make sure Darian didn't try anything. "I need the rest of the day off to handle a few things; can you cover for me?"

Stella nodded and shrugged. "Sure. You ok?"

Mac sighed, trying to decide if he should tell Stella about Darian now. "I ran in to someone I arrested a while back today. To keep it short, I wasn't too pleased," he said finally.

Now Stella looked concerned. "Who was it?"

"Darian Huchardson. I have a friend who has a restraining order on the guy and she told me she saw him hanging around too close for her comfort, mine and the restraining order's, so I just want to make sure everything's cool with her," Mac said.

Stella nodded, studying him for a moment. "Alright, I'll cover for you. Take your time and be careful. I'll look in to him."

Mac nodded and let out a quiet breath of relief. "Thanks, Stella. I'll call you if anything comes up," he said.

Stella nodded and offered him a smile. "No problem, Mac."

**ooOOoo**

Back at their place, Mac and Angie quickly shed their jackets by the door before they just sat down on the couch, Angie leaning in to Mac as he put an arm around her.

He kept thinking about what Darian said. He couldn't let him hurt Angie… There had to be a way to keep her safe.

He sighed, already knowing the answer as Angie laid her head on his chest, almost literally stretched comfortably out on top of him as they lay on the couch. There wasn't really a way to keep her entirely safe. He couldn't be with her every second even though he knew that would be the only way he would feel certain she was alright.

But he wasn't going to leave her. Darian should know that and probably did. That was another thing that worried Mac. Huchardson knew fully well where they lived and Mac wasn't doubting that he'd follow through on his promise.

He'd have to think over this one for a while… And he'd have to find a way to get Huchardson behind bars for good. It was the only way he'd be able to keep the convict from killing more people and harassing Angie and himself.


	5. Chapter 5: Revelations

"_He'll find out when I pull the trigger, I'm goin' home, gonna load my shotgun, Wait by the door and light a cigarette, He wants a fight, well, now he's got one, And he ain't seen me crazy yet, Slapped my face and he shook me like a rag doll, Don't that sound like a real man?..." – "Gunpowder & Lead" by Miranda Lambert_

**. . . . . . . . . . . .**

"Don, what do we have?" Mac greeted the Homicide Detective and tried to ignore a dark feeling in the pit of his stomach that he wasn't going to like this scene.

It was possibly mid-morning, pushing more towards noon, as Don led Mac across the street and under the strip of yellow police tape that ran across the head of a dark alley in downtown Manhattan.

"Jane Doe, roughly 35 years old. Looks like she had a hell of a morning."

Mac barely heard the words and almost dropped the kit in his hands. "Oh my God…"

Don looked over at him, surprised and concerned. "Mac? You alright?"

Mac shook his head as he tried to take in the scene before him, feeling like he wanted to back away even though his legs felt stiff. "That's… That's Angie…," he stumbled with the words, his blue eyes wide and feeling like the world was crashing down in millions of sharp pieces around him.

There was no way he could mistake her. Her dark black hair made her already pale skin tone seem even more like a ghost's, especially in the dark alley.

He felt Don firmly place a steadying hand on his shoulder and he had to check his grip on the handle of his field kit. "Mac… who's Angie?"

He dragged his eyes from the horrific scene in front of him to look at his friend almost blankly. "Newark… Angeline Newark," he said, feeling like his mouth was dry with the knowledge that he now had.

_Darian… you better pray I don't find you first…_

Don let out a sigh and looked from his partner to the victim and back. "Why don't you go to the precinct… and… I'll have Danny meet you there." It wasn't a question, but more so of a command.

Mac nodded almost numbly, leaning back against the bricks for a moment as he tried to get a grip on reality. "Yeah… I'll go talk to him," he said, shaking his head and not looking back as he headed back down the alley, eyes fixed on the pavement the whole way back to his Avalanche.

He got in the truck and gave himself a few moments to get a grasp at what he'd just figured out.

"Oh, God," he breathed, closing his eyes and raking a hand down his face. He knew _exactly_ what had happened.

He had promised to check on her at lunch… which was only an hour or less from now. Darian must've been waiting until he left. _Jesus, the son of a bitch hunted her like prey!_

The thought made him sick and he wondered how he was even going to manage the drive to the precinct between the grief and the anger. Huchardson had gone _too far_.

He took in another shaky breath before he finally turned the key in the ignition and pulled the Avalanche back on the streets to head back to the precinct.

**. . . . . . . . . . . .**

"Steady," Danny said, watching Mac in concern as he guided the older man in to the nearest chair.

The drive to the precinct had seemed to take forever and Mac fumbled for words that he couldn't get out of his mouth anyways. He felt like he was choking on the emotions and he barely noticed as Danny quickly pulled up a chair beside him.

"You ok, boss?" Danny asked gently.

Mac looked over at him, shaking his head. "I… I just can't believe she's dead…"

That sounded almost cliché to Mac, but he couldn't honestly form any other thought in that precise moment.

Danny nodded, trying to figure out how to ask the questions he normally did in these types of situations. "How did you know her?"

Mac bit harshly at his lip, wondering how on Earth he was supposed to answer that. "I've been with her for a while…," he said after a few moments, the answer barely audible to even him, "I never told you guys because of her rough past making us unsure that we were ready to tell you guys."

_Oh shit,_ Danny thought, nearly flinching from Mac's answer. Nothing made this harder than that answer right there did. He watched as Mac shook his head again, stumbling even more with his words now that he knew just how Mac knew the vic.

"Her brother was murdered by her ex… Darian Huchardson. I met her after I arrested the son of a bitch for that and… other things," Mac added quietly, not looking Danny in the eyes.

Danny frowned just slightly. "Hey, it's alright, ok? We'll get through this," he said gently, laying one of his hands on Mac's arm.

The older detective raised his head a bit, but still had his gaze focused on the floor. "Did Stella tell you about how I asked her to cover for me yesterday?"

Danny nodded. "She looked in to Huchardson as well; said you asked her to."

Mac nodded, finally looking up at Danny. "The reason I was back late to the lab was because I had a less than friendly chat with Huchardson and I needed to make sure Angie was alright. I picked her up from work and we spent the rest of the day at home."

Danny wasn't used to the haunted look in Mac's eyes and seeing his friend so stiff. He also got the feeling there was something he wasn't hearing. "What did Huchardson tell you?"

Mac took in a shaky breath and then let it out as an even shakier sigh. "He wanted me to keep my distance from Angie… and he said he'd kill her if I didn't. He also said he'd be after me for it as well… My only concern was Angie… I had to make sure she was alright."

Once again, Mac avoided meeting Danny's gaze as Danny sat back, struggling to wrap his head around all of this.

If that was true… Huchardson was responsible for Angie's murder… and that same son of a bitch was still out there, looking to get after Mac as well.

The thought didn't appeal to Danny at all. They _had _to find out what happened before it got worse. He'd heard from Stella what Huchardson's rap sheet was, and it was definitely less than pleasant…


	6. Chapter 6: People Care

"_Crazy girl, don't you know that I love you? I wouldn't dream of goin' nowhere. Silly woman, come here, let me hold you. Have I told you lately I love you like crazy, girl?" – "Crazy Girl" by Eli Young Band_

**. . . . . . . . .**

Two days later and Mac was still off work from the lab. Yesterday had been decently alright, but today had hit him harder than he would've ever thought possible.

He didn't even quite know where he was when he shifted the truck in to park and let a sigh escape his lips, ignoring a now vibrating cell phone that was trying to get the message across that he had an incoming call from one of the team.

He didn't care. He just didn't care. Without looking, he turned the keys to 'off' in the ignition and carefully yanked them out before putting them next to his phone.

He shook his head, trying to gather his thoughts. _Who cares anymore? What's it matter, anyways?_

The team was working on tracking Huchardson, the slippery bastard. There was no sign of him anywhere. And personally, Mac didn't quite care. He had other things to think over and work out.

Stepping out of the truck, the warm and gentle breeze greeted him welcomingly and for a moment, he let the very different setting of rural New York soothe his many mixed emotions.

He shut the door and just scanned the horizon. Night would be falling soon. He had time. Lots and lots of dreaded time.

He eased himself up on to the hood of the Avalanche, feet rested on the front bumper's edge as he raised his eyes to the lightly star-dusted sky. Only a few were fighting through the darkness so far and off in the far distance, he thought he remembered word of an airport and he could almost make out the runway lights that were just turning on in preparation for any night flights that would be leaving.

Maybe that's what he needed to do… Just hunt down a flight and take it…

Anywhere but New York. Anywhere but home. Not New York… Not Chicago. Neither would help him.

He looked back down at his hands, biting just slightly at his lip. Really, he was starting to question his sanity. Maybe it was time…

Time to just walk away, retire and find somewhere quiet and away from the hustle and bustle of the city life that he had grown so accustomed to. Maybe it was just time to stop trying. He was tired of running, almost tired of trying to lead the life he was all together.

Saying goodbye would be hard, of course… as always. Nothing was ever easy. Especially goodbye. Especially saying goodbye to the one person who had made the insanity of his life become a tolerable amount of insanity and sanity mixing together peacefully.

He shook his head again and closed his eyes, telling himself he wouldn't let this stop him. He couldn't let this break him. But it was just so damn difficult and he didn't know if it was worth it…

What had he read somewhere?

_People cry, not because they're weak, it's because they've been strong too long._

Maybe that was the problem. It was just too much. Too much for him to take anymore. Maybe it really was time to just let go… Move on, start a different life and just _quit caring_.

He looked up again as he heard a plane take off, and he could make out the lights of that plane over the treetops at the edge of the field.

He watched for only a few moments before he took a deep breath, almost shakily, and let it out as a soft sigh as he looked around.

It was almost a different world out here… No skyscrapers towered so high that they were swallowed by the clouds, no taxi drivers laid on their horns every other second, no job to constantly call him out to another crime scene…

Nothing. Nothing besides a welcoming silence and a soft breeze to soothe his deepest anxiety.

And time. Sweet time.

Time. Silence. Breeze.

It was truly breathtaking. Such peace… when only maybe an hour or two earlier, if that, he'd been amongst such chaos.

He saw headlights on the road, but they were small, almost like two little stars that he could just make out at such a distance.

He'd told himself for years that it would always take time… Time to heal, time to cool off… Time to solve the case. Time to find the right answers.

Time before he could move on. 9/11 taught him that over everything else. It added to a many years old lesson he'd learned originally from his father, possibly, and maybe just expanded upon in his time in the service…

People are strong. People can _move on_. Even after taking a bullet with a hard blow and being stuck between a rock and a dark place with seemingly no way out, he'd seen people move on and rebuild their lives from scratch.

Hell, he'd done it himself and he'd helped a few of his friends do it as well. Maybe not from such an extreme stand point, but pretty damn close, and many a time over.

Another missed call, another sigh. He felt more relaxed out here than he almost ever remembered feeling. Unless he was with her…

Darian was still out there, and he could only speculate as to how he'd be chased and taken down.

Who cared? What did it matter?

Life goes on. The world keeps turning. Wars are still fought. Bullets still fly. Bloodshed will always be a part of life.

He couldn't change it, and no one else could either. So why try? Why not just attempt to accept it or swallow it and trudge on?

He nodded and took another look around, pulling out a necklace of Angie's from his pocket. He'd found it lost in the closet, as he would expect her to do. It had been one of her favorites.

A faint smile. He slid off the hood of the truck and wrapped the chain of the necklace tightly around his hand and then unwound it a few times. The action was calming. One last look around at the setting around him and he reached for the door of the truck, getting in and looking at his phone.

His team cared. It was obvious. He couldn't leave. Running wouldn't solve anything. Running would make it hurt more.

He had people that cared. They wouldn't leave him on his own even if it meant one of them could lose their life waiting. He'd seen it done before and he'd done it himself. It mattered because _they cared_.

Back to the city… Back to a life that was quite possibly insanity…

Back to the people that cared. To the people that could help. To _family._


	7. Chapter 7: Fight For Truth

**So, here's where things get interesting, hopefully. I hope you guys are still with me, and if you aren't, hopefully this will get your attention again! Because Darian was very careful on how he planned to go at Mac, and it is definitely what many others might call a rather… unconventional method of going after Mac… So, let's see what you think!**

**ooOOoo**

"_And I don't want the world to see me, 'Cause I don't think that they'd understand, When everything's made to be broken, I just want you to know who I am._

_And you can't fight the tears that ain't comin', Or the moment of truth in your lies, When everything feels like the movies, Yeah, you bleed just to know you're alive." – "I Just Want You To Know Who I Am" performed by Kings of the Orchard_

**. . . . . . . . . . . . . .**

"Don," Mac greeted the Homicide Detective as he walked in to the precinct, looking down at his watch. It seemed early to have Don calling him down seeing as he'd only just returned from the team's latest crime scene which he'd worked with Hawkes.

"We need to talk," Don said, his face grim. The words themselves set alarm bells ringing in Mac's mind and the look on his friend's face kind of startled him.

Regardless, he followed without question when Don led him to one of the empty interrogation rooms.

"Have a seat," Don advised, nodding to the chair across from where he took a seat.

Mac sat down, a confused gaze fixed on Don. "What's on your mind?"

"Angie's murder," Don replied, laying a case file on the table. He took a deep breath as he opened the file, and Mac could already see what was coming. "Mac… You're a suspect."

It still didn't keep him from being a bit stunned by the news.

Don leaned back in his chair. "And you're not just a suspect… but you're our _only_ suspect that looks _really, really good_ for this."

Mac bit at his lip and looked away from Don for a moment, trying to keep his thoughts straight. What was Don implying? Was this saying he was going to go down for Angie's murder? When on Earth did this happen?

"I didn't kill her, and you of all people should know that," he said finally, looking back at Don.

Don shook his head. "Trust me, I don't _want_ to believe the evidence, but the evidence doesn't _lie_! That's what you've told us for years, Mac! Danny processed everything himself by the book down to a tee, and everything about it points to you. Hell, even TOD makes you look like a hell of a suspect!"

"Then I don't know what to tell you," Mac shot back. Now he was a little rubbed the wrong way. Murder? Hell no! Especially Angie! "I didn't kill her!"

"We found the murder weapon," Don told him, pulling a picture from the photos in the file and sliding it across the table for Mac to see. "Danny ran the prints through AFIS and they match your set we have on record from when you joined NYPD and the Crime Scene Unit."

Mac shook his head. "I didn't kill her!"

"Can you tell me where you were between eight and ten-thirty in the morning two days ago?" Don asked.

Mac frowned and looked down at his hands, trying to think between shock and a renewed wave of grief over the fact that Angie had been murdered. "Alone. I left the lab to run a few things through town and I asked Stella to cover for me."

"What time was that?" Don asked, looking almost reluctant to even continue the line of questioning and rather uncomfortable with how this was playing out.

"I left the lab at a quarter to eight and I wasn't back until around ten-thirty," Mac said honestly, leaning back in his seat and his eyes focused almost unseeingly on the photo of the knife Don had pushed across the table. From just eyeing it, Mac could tell that it was definitely probable that it had been the knife that killed Angie. Reports confirmed it, too.

Don sighed, looking down at the table. "I'll need your badge and weapon, Mac," he said quietly. "You're being placed under arrest for the murder of Angelina Newark."

Mac didn't wait for the charge to sink in as he silently laid his badge on the table before he stood and took his holster off his belt before he took his gun out, removed the fully loaded magazine, and popped the single round out of the chamber. He then laid the unloaded weapon and ammunition on the table beside his badge as one of the precinct officers took his hands behind his back to tighten a pair of handcuffs.

Don stood with a heavy sigh and Mac didn't miss the regret in his eyes as he looked up.

"Don't worry about this," Mac said quietly, not looking up at the Homicide Detective, "Just find who killed her for real."

Don swallowed and watched in what was almost stunned silence as the officer then led Mac out of the room. It was a stretch of what felt like years before he could finally make himself walk out of the room to watch as the officer led Mac through the precinct.

Even the newest officers to the precinct looked stunned by the sight and Danny quietly joined Don as they stood near the doors to the hall.

"We can't let him go down for this," Danny finally said as Don looked over at him.

Don nodded. "We need to find that Huchardson character. I'd bet money on him setting Mac up for this."

Danny nodded in agreement before quickly readjusting his glasses. "And we need to do it fast. Once this case is on trial and they send Mac upstate for this shit, we might as well sign our names on a report down at the morgue and reserve a freezer. They'll kill him within the hour up there."

Don nodded, face grim as ever. "We'll find who did this. We don't have a choice now. I am not going to stand by and listen as a judge gives Mac the life sentence for a first degree murder he didn't commit. This is just like living that damn Dobson case over again, only worse."

With that, the two turned for the lab. They couldn't waste time if they wanted to stop the inevitable from happening.

All the evidence they had pointed to a conviction. Conviction meant a trial and sentencing. Sentencing meant that they would see their friend behind bars when they knew by heart that he was innocent. Worse… it meant he was a dead man walking.

There were plenty of criminals who would take pleasure in ending Mac's career in law enforcement on the streets, and even more so behind bars. And nothing was ever pretty behind bars. Especially when the charge was murder in the first.

**. . . . . . . . . . . .**

Mac locked his fingers together tightly as he looked down at them, elbows rested on his knees with his hands out in front of him. It was all he could do to keep himself composed and from pacing.

Then he heard the familiar sounds of heels clacking on the floor and he raised his head to rest his eyes on a familiar figure.

He managed a small smile that was majorly forced as he stood and unclasped his hands as he walked over, doing his best to ignore that his view of the familiar face was through bars. "I figured it was only a matter of time before I saw one of you down here."

Lindsay struggled with a smile. "I figured you could use the visit. Holding isn't the greatest place in the world, you know?" she gave a weak attempt at lightening the mood around them. Holding always gave her a freaky feeling. It always seemed dark down here.

Mac took the attempt with a smile and a nod, no matter how much of a weak attempt it was. "Indeed," he said, taking a look around. "Not for anyone."

"I just can't believe this is happening," Lindsay said with a shake of her head as she tightly folded her arms across her chest. "You're not a killer, Mac. I should know! How am I ever going to tell Lucy?"

Mac sighed quietly and looked over at her. "Don't count your chickens before they hatch, Lindsay. You guys can figure this out, I know it."

Lindsay looked over at him with a pretty humorless breath of a laugh. "But can we do it time?" she asked, looking concerned as she met his gaze. "Mac, I know what they'll do to you. You don't stand a chance on trial and we all know that they'll sentence you for over 25 and quite possibly life since you're a cop. Not to mention the media will have a blast and you'll be dead before the sun goes down when they put you upstate!"

"Hey," Mac cut her off quietly, carefully reaching a hand through the bars to lay it reassuringly on her shoulder, "Don't think like that. I'll be fine," he said with a small smile. "You guys are the best team I could ever ask for and I know you can figure this out. You just have to do what we've always done."

Lindsay sighed and unfolded her arms to lay one of her hands over Mac's. "It's not the same without you, Mac. I don't know if we can."

"But I know you can," Mac told her. "You guys will do what we've always done and go back to what you know. Go back to what you know for certain, review the evidence and maybe bring in a new perspective for fresh eyes. The key to the truth is hidden in there, Lindsay. You guys just have to find it. And I know you're all more than capable of that as a team. You guys are the best in the business, and I'm grateful that I've had the pleasure to know and work with you all."

Lindsay managed a partial and very small smile and she took Mac's hand in one of hers, removing it from her shoulder and putting a tight grip that he returned with just as much strength as she always remembered him having, if not physically, but in choice of words. She nodded, "You always have the right words, Mac. We can do this."

Mac offered her a small smile in return. "I know you can. It's what you guys do," he told her, "And it's what you're good at. So, go do what you've always done, Lindsay: Fight, fight for what's right and fight for the truth. That's the way you'll find Angie's real killer."


	8. Chapter 8: Here I Am

"_Here I am, this is me, There's nowhere else on Earth I'd rather be, Here I am, it's just me and you, Tonight we make our dreams come true,_

_It's a new world, it's a new start, It's alive with the beating of young hearts, It's a new day, it's a new plan, I've been waiting for you… Here I am." – "Here I Am" by Bryan Adams_

**. . . . . . . . . . . .**

Mac jolted himself back to the present, eyes open to the scene around him. The same scene as it was when he spoke with Lindsay.

He shook his head and let out a sigh. He was letting this get to him too much. He swore the scene his mind had just put him in had been as real as the metal bars he had his back against.

It had been a court. He didn't recognize the judge overseeing the case, which was strange since he'd worked thousands, if not hundreds of thousands, of cases over a course of ten plus years in the NYPD's Crime Scene Unit. The evidence against him was staggering and the last thing he remembered in his "daydream," for the lack of a better word, was the sound of a sentencing.

25 years to life in the highest security prison New York had to its name for the brutal murder of Angelina Newark.

"Jesus, keep it together, Taylor," he breathed, leaning his head back as he closed his eyes and rubbed at the back of his neck. The transfer for the trial was scheduled to go down tomorrow. After that, it was down to the wire for his team to find evidence to disprove the claim that he killed Angie, and even then, there was no saying the judge would've already heard the case and made a decision.

Darian had set him up good. Too good. There _had_ to be somewhere where he slipped up enough to cause _at least_ uncertainty. Or else he might as well walk down to the morgue and lay himself on the table and let Sid perform the autopsy while he was still breathing.

Mac frowned. The thought wasn't pleasant, and he questioned why it had even occurred to him. Usually he was pretty good about keeping fantasies separate from reality on possibilities within his job. Shaking his head, he blamed it on the hell of a setting he was in.

He needed out of this, sooner rather than later.

**. . . . . . . . . . . . .**

"Please tell me you've got something that we can use to get Mac a get out of jail free card?" Danny asked hopefully as he walked in to get an update from Hawkes, who was currently standing with the knife they'd determined was the murder weapon and his camera nearby on the table.

Hawkes was silent for a few moments before he nodded. "If you mean sufficient evidence and reason to believe that finding Mac's prints all over this knife was indeed a set-up and a print to the real killer, then yes, I'm your man," he said with a smile starting to form on his lips.

"Really?" Danny asked, taken by surprise at such a quick find.

Hawkes smiled and nodded. "I can't twist your arm that well, Danny," he pointed out as he carefully lifted the stray print and scanned it to the computer for an AFIS search before he handed over a print out from one of their many tests or another.

"I analyzed the prints that belonged to Mac to see if there was any way that they could've been planted, and there's definitely enough evidence to solidly say that Mac never touched this knife directly," Hawkes explained.

Danny nodded. "Then whoever that print belongs to set Mac up to do some serious time."

Hawkes nodded, "And ultimately wanted Mac dead."

**. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .**

"Well, well, well… Mac Taylor. Weren't you listening when we chatted in your truck the other day?"

Mac didn't even move from his position leaning against the far wall. He didn't need to. Through the now dark room, he could just make out the uniform of an officer for the precinct, but the voice told him that this was no officer. "Darian. Didn't your momma ever tell you that messing with cops is a no-no?" he shot back with a hiss, his arms folded across his chest. He had no idea what time it was, but Insomnia was hard enough to deal with at home, much less holding at the precinct where he'd pretty much worked his entire career.

Huchardson smirked and leaned against the bars of the cell, looking in on the detective. "Nah. It's that or I never listened to my momma, Mac. She was dead when I was twelve."

"Let me guess," Mac guessed with a hint of a snarl in his voice this time, "You killed her too, didn't you?"

"How'd you guess?" Darian asked with a cruel laugh. "I shot her, though. Angie was… special. I had to take my time with her."

"You sick mother-fucking bastard!" Mac growled, glaring at the convict. "You're damn lucky I'm looking at you through bars or else I'd kill you now!"

Darian shrugged. "You certain you couldn't strangle me here, Mac?" he asked tauntingly. "I'm pretty sure you could reach and you're a strong man, so I think you could pull it off."

Mac finally unfolded his arms from across his chest and walked out of his corner where he'd taken up post for the night. He stopped when he was looking straight through the bars to evenly match his gaze with Darian's. "If you loved her, you wouldn't have killed her. You're not worth the damn time, Huchardson." His gaze didn't waver as he rested one hand on the bars and the other remained in his pocket.

Darian smirked, looking around casually like he owned the place. "You know… They won't even know I was here. They'll think you're mad if you try to tell them I was here when they come for you tomorrow."

"Oh, go to hell," Mac growled, turning away from Darian.

"You know they'll kill you up there, Mac." The statement stopped him in his tracks, but he didn't look over his shoulder just yet. "What's it like? Knowing you're going to jail for something you didn't do and knowing that you'll be dead before you could try to protest?"

Mac looked over his shoulder slowly to see Huchardson standing there with a wicked smile. In his hands was a small caliber handgun that he twirled easily around his index finger by the trigger guard. He turned around so that he faced Darian.

"It's like hell knowing that I've got them worried sick and there's nothing I can do or say to try and relax them and assure them I'll be ok," he stated calmly. "Yet somehow I've just accepted it. Because I know one day, even if it's not in time to save me from going down for what you did to her, you're going to pay for what you did at the fullest extent of the law. And that's the only thing I signed up to do. To put criminals away for what they did and offer closure to victim's families. But you wouldn't know what that's like, would you?"

Darian looked at him, shrugging. "Nope, I just put them face down in the ground and laugh when you do the clean-up work for me, Mac."

Mac nodded, frowning slightly as he looked away. "You going to use that .25?" he asked. "They may be a little slow, but they're not deaf, Darian. I figured you'd want to enjoy sitting back and watching the convicts kill me slowly upstate more than just killing me with a bullet and being done with it."

Darian shrugged again. "Either way you're dead, right?"

Mac shrugged and nodded. "Seeing as I'm not a fast moving target, you could probably put a bullet where it would be fatal without too much difficulty."

Darian smiled a little, stopping in his twirling of the gun. "Damn… I didn't know you were that confident on my shooting skills, Detective Taylor."

Mac flashed a small smile. "It's not that I'm confident in your accuracy. It's that I know my chances, Darian. I've got nowhere to run with four walls of bars keeping me in a tight enclosed area. Even if you missed the first time, humans aren't quite possible of such a good recovery time to avoid at least getting hit once, and the odds are that the bullet wound would end up being fatal," he said.

Darian shrugged. "Fair enough, Detective."

"Is it?" Mac asked, looking over at me. "If you weren't a coward you would've taken me out on the streets. But no, you're a damn coward just like Angie knew you were and you've got to make sure I can't fight back before you try to kill me. You want to know why she left you? She left you because you didn't treat her right, Darian. She was a human just like the rest of us, and she deserved to be treated as such, but all you used her for was a toy: an object you claimed ownership to. She was too young, Darian."

"You better shut your fucking mouth, Taylor, or I will make you eat a damn bullet between the eyes!" Huchardson snapped, cocking the gun and aiming it through the bars at Mac.

Mac smiled a little. "Go on then," he said with a shrug of his shoulders as he casually placed his hands in his pockets. "Do it. I've had my life on the line before. It's not like I'm going anywhere, after all."


End file.
